For the first time in recorded Finny Fishes history, getting up early to go fish did NOT mean also fighting a creeping hangover and trying not to chum the river with my own puke.
|Paul says, "A morning on the boat without a searing headache is AOK by me."|
This time, however, we were up in the 4s and on the water in the 6s and, if you can believe it, smiling and happy to do so. Unlike previous trips.
|"What you don't know is that I've Irished up this coffee."|
Oh Bubba, caffeine and fishing do make this man smile. I also have no evidence to support the claim that his coffee was anything other than strong, black and weird smelling - with the weird smell coming from the Starbucks instant packets he piled into the in-room coffee maker at the Super 8, our very fancy fishing accommodations.
"Hey! There are no outward signs that a storage container of Eastern European hookers were murdered in this room! Posh!"
Sorry, we're still a bit jumpy from our visit to the Murder Motel last year.
Anyway - about those fish...we caught some.
I think we'd been anchored for less than 10 minutes when Paul landed his first rainbow.
|"No skunks on my watch."|
And then it was like this for eight hours.
|This fish croaked at me. It was perhaps ready to go back in the water.|
|Captain Fish Ass himself.|
|A smiling Royals fan. Only when there's a fish on the line.|
|The Mighty Sunburned Forearm|
|An Eagle Lake trout doing its best Jaws impression. Duh-nuh...|
|My Romanian grandmother, Paul, hauling in another beauty.|
|Nice catch, Bubbie!|
|I was all excited about this one until I realized she was pregs and dumping babies on my feet. Sorry, mama.|
|So pretty, the guide videotaped her being released back into the lake.|
|Which made me extra proud. My prettiest catch of the day.|
So, yeah, all told I think we caught somewhere between 35-45 famous Eagle Lake trout and had an outstanding time with our guide, Doug, from Sierra Drifters.
I've also decided that still water fishing from a boat is awesome fun, my cast still needs immeasurable amounts of work and that I'm grateful for our super helpful and patient guide who instructed me on the finer points of roll casting and mending.
As in, "OK. Now *really* mend your line."
Bless him. I'm awful.
Then, as is customary for all fishing trips, sunburns were compared over beers.
|Bubba wins with his reinterpreted widow's peak.|
|His prize? The Pioneer Cafe's beer sampler platter.|
And then, because we can't just fish the lake and go home, we decided to go to another spot on Deer Creek and fall down.
I wish I had photos of that, but since my camera went for a swim with me in the river, I'm afraid she's down for the count.
Boo. I will be on the hunt for a new beater camera for my fishing vest unless she comes back to life after a week spent drying out and thinking about what she did.
Jerk camera, just floating around in my vest pocket full of water. Sheesh.
I did, however, get a few shots of us on Deer Creek from earlier in the trip. A lovely time when my camera was still safe and dry in my vest because I was quite busy fending off mosquitos and not so hell bent on falling over my own giant booted feet in the river.
|When the sun went behind the hill, the mosquitos screamed, "GAME ON" and then ate my face.|
|I wish that Deer Creek were scenic.|
And let's not forget that this was Duchess's first fishing trip.
|Nice work, mama. Also, I now remember what you look like when you're clean.|